Hungry Darkness: A Deep Sea Thriller

by Gabino Iglesias

  Gabe had almost reached the two men bent over his boat when Martin jumped back so hard he fell on his ass.

  “Holy shit…”

  Emanuel’s words were too long. It sounded like he had split holy into two different words. Gabe reached him and looked at the side of the boat. A round, pinkish bulge with brown spots was moving along the side of the boat like a huge tongue. A wave a reddish brown seemed to wash over it.

  “Wow! I wonder how many millions of cromatophores this thing has. You see that flash of red? We know next to nothing about the way an octopus uses colors to communicate, but I’m pretty sure that meant it’s either hungry or mad. I’ve seen…”

  “Fuck!”

  Martin’s scream made them turn around. They saw him lift his shotgun and fire. The sound pierced their ears and left a continuous ringing in its wake. Gabe watched a chunk of his starboard go up in an explosion of white.

  “There was a tentacle there!” said Martin, his voice a trembling mess.

  “I told you not to shoot my boat!”

  “Stop it, guys. We need to keep our eye on the octopus. Maybe it was distracting us with one arm while he used the other to sneak up on us. I told you this was a smart animal. Also, remember that it can shed an arm and keep going, so we want to focus on shooting him where it matters, which means not on the arms. Aim for the eyes. We’re…we’re gonna have to let him climb into the boat if we want to have a clear shot at his head.”

  “We have to go back. It’s too big. My son was right.”

  “We can’t go back now,” said Gabe. “We need to finish this thing. Your son could be his next meal if we don’t.”

  Anger flashed in Martin’s eyes. Gabe saw it as clearly as he’d seen the red flashing across the octopus’s arm. Then, as quickly as it’d come, it vanished. Martin knew Gabe was right.

  “We should get in the cockpit and stomp around. He already knows we’re here.”

  Emanuel looked over starboard again. The arm was gone.

  “I hope your shot only scared him a bit. If he decides to move on to something else, our chances of killing him…”

  “He’s still around,” said Martin, who was now making his way to the cockpit. ‘”I just saw the same shadow I saw earlier move off the port quarter.”

  No one spoke again. They all moved to the cockpit which, sitting in the middle of the beam, was the point in the boat that put the most distance between them and the water.

  Emanuel started stomping his feet.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Gabe asked, feeling annoyed and confused, both of which were exacerbated by the fear he was feeling.

  “I’m letting the octopus know we’re still here. He’s already proved he’s curious, so I’m just giving him more reason to come up and take a look.”

  The stomping went on for a few minutes. It was obvious Emanuel was getting tired of it. Gabe didn’t want to say anything, but with each passing minute he became more convinced that they had missed their chance and wouldn’t get another one. He was trying to keep the call he’d have to give Suarez out of his head. What was worse, he felt that any new deaths would be partly his fault. Then Emanuel raised his right hand and pointed at starboard.

  ‘There!”

  The tip of an arm was just reaching over the side of the boat. It moved carefully, but it didn’t seem to hesitate about pushing forward.

  Martin pumped another shell into the chamber. The metallic clack cracked the silence they were all immersed in and made Gabe realize he was holding his breath.

  “Don’t shoot, Martin. Remember that we need to let it get much closer.”

  The fisherman looked at Emanuel with wide eyes. His forehead was covered with beads of sweat despite the breeze. He nodded, but it was a half-assed nod. It made Gabe wonder if he would start shooting soon and if that would ruin this second chance.

  The three men stood in the cockpit as close as if they were stuck in a crowded elevator. They watched as the massive arm reached over the side of the boat and started moving along like a jerky snake. A few suckers made a loud popping sound as they let go of the boat’s floor to move forward.

  “There’s a second arm near the bow,” said Emanuel, his voice low as if he was communicating a secret.

  Gabe and Martin looked at the bow despite the fact that their brains were telling them to keep their eyes glued to the approaching arm.

  The second arm was moving much faster than the first. In fact, its movements were so different from the appendage they’d been looking at a few seconds ago that Gabe wondered if it belonged to a different creature. The arm crossed the bow and seemed to hug that part of the boat. Gabe wondered if the octopus wanted to sink them that way.

  By the time the third arm appeared, this one only a few feet from the tree-trunk-sized arm that was now reaching the elevated floor of the cockpit, Emanuel spoke.

  “Get ready. We should see his head popping up any minute now. There’s no way those arms can keep appearing without the octopus they’re attached to.”

  Emanuel was wrong.

  The two arms kept coming.

  The three men moved away from the probing appendages, slowly walking backwards toward port.

  “It’s too big! The head is till underwater!” said Martin.

  Then, as if to prove him wrong, a large, round mass appeared off starboard. The sun had almost dipped entirely into the horizon and the piece of octopus they could see appeared only as a round darkness.

  Gabe raised his shotgun and click-clacked a round into the chamber. Emanuel did the same. Martin was already aiming at the beast.

  “Hold your fire, man. We want to see its eyes before we start shooting.”

  Gabe looked at Martin. The shotgun was shaking in his hands.

  By the time the fifth arm appeared on board, Gabe was ready to start shooting at the round mass which now stood at least four feet over starboard. They had to hit something vital if they all landed shot inside that roundness.

  “I think we should…”

  “Not yet! Look at the bottom. That’s a piece of mantle. He’s trying to get in. He’ll be over the side soon. Then we shoot.”

  The seconds that passed seemed like an eternity. The octopus’s head grew and grew. The boat tipped to starboard. Gabe was sure it would keep tipping until they were all in the water. Finally, the head dropped inside the boat.

  Martin’s shotgun went off first. The flash illuminated the beast. Two dark eyes were looking at them from atop a brownish mass with touches of dark green that was almost the size of a small car.

  Gabe squeezed his trigger a second later. He saw an explosion coming from the top left part of the octopus’s head. He had expected it to deflate, to show it’d been hurt. None of that happened. Emanuel’s blast went off almost simultaneously with Martin’s second. Then Martin’s disappeared with a scream.

  Gabe looked at the place the skinny fisherman had been occupying and saw nothing. Then he looked down and saw Martin was being dragged by his left calf. The fisherman yelled and dropped his gun to try to stop himself from being pulled out of the boat. Gabe heard the shotgun clatter and instantly knew that had been a bad move. He took two steps toward the screaming man, aimed at the arm a few feet away from the leg, and pulled the trigger. He heard Emanuel’s shotgun go off once more.

  The arm exploded. Martin moved back. The half of the arm that was still attached to the octopus pulled back, leaving a streak of blue blood behind it. Gabe looked at the hole the shot had left on his boat. His fear was suddenly drowned by anger.

  Emanuel squeezed off another shot. Gabe turned to look at him. Then he saw him go down just like Martin had.

  Behind Gabe, Martin shot at the retreating arm.

  Emanuel didn’t let his gun go. He aimed at the head of the monster and pulled the trigger. There was only a loud click. He was out of ammunition.

  Each man had three shells in the shotgun. Martin and Emanuel had more in their pockets. Gabe had nothing but dampness in his. />
  Gabe moved closer to the octopus and aimed his last shot at the middle of its head. He squeezed the trigger and felt the gun kick. Another chunk of octopus flesh exploded into the air.

  Emanuel was trying to pull a shell out of his pocket, but it wasn’t happening.

  Gabe moved toward the cockpit. The bag with the ammo was under the captain’s chair.

  Emanuel started screaming.

  Martin had managed to reload. His shotgun went off again. Gabe didn’t know what he was shooting at, but he didn’t have time to take a look. He reached the bag and unzipped it. The boxes of shells had opened. The ammunition was loose and moving around in the bag. He grabbed two shells and quickly used his thumb to push them into the gun.

  He got up and looked at where Emanuel had been a few seconds ago. The man was gone. Then Gabe saw an arm disappearing under the beast’s head. He pumped the shotgun and moved toward the head.

  The octopus had shifted its position. It looked like he was trying to turn around and return to the water. Gabe stepped to its left and extended his right arm to get a shot closer to the shiny black eyes.

  The shotgun went off. It pushed Gabe’s arm toward the sky. Something hit Gabe from behind and knocked him down. He heard Martin scream and shoot again. He turned that way. Martin was two and half feet off the boat. A massive arm was wrapped around him, moving back toward the water. There was a loud crunch and the fisherman’s legs kicked out. Then he was still.

  Gabe stood up. The octopus had pulled its head halfway up the side of the boat. He had to make a move before it disappeared underwater.

  Something splashed loudly behind him.

  He pumped his last round into the chamber and took four steps toward the head. Instead of extending his arm again, Gabe got next to the octopus, pressed the shotgun into the gaping hole left by his previous shot, and squeezed the trigger once more.

  The dome where the octopus’s last working eye remained exploded. Blue blood and pieces of slimy flesh rained down on him. Momentum carried the octopus over the side of the boat. It splashed down on the water and floated there, not moving.

  Gabe looked down and saw Emanuel’s upper torso. Only it’s right arm was still attached to it. Right below the chest, there was only gore and a piece of the man’s spine jutting out below a few shattered ribs.

  Gabe looked to the side, bent over, and vomited. Then he looked back. Martin wasn’t in the boat. He heard no splashing around.

  The shotgun clattered against the floor. Gabe wiped his mouth, stood up straight, and looked around.

  He couldn’t make out too many details in the encroaching darkness, but the boat was covered in red and blue blood. Miraculously, the hole on the floor wasn’t gushing water.

  Gabe grabbed Emanuel’s remaining arm and pushed his torso into the ocean. The octopus was still there, floating a few inches below the water and not moving. Then he picked up his shotgun and looked for Emanuel’s gun. Martin’s wasn’t in the boat. Gabe threw the guns into the ocean and looked out at the last red line above the horizon.

  It was time to go home. He hated navigating the reef at night, but the boat had the equipment to ensure he’d make it home if he paid attention to it and didn’t try to hurry.

  Gabe walked to cockpit and turned on his motors. The black water at the back of the boat started churning. He had to focus on getting home, but all he could think about were the unknown hungry things living in the impenetrable liquid darkness that surrounded him.

  Read on for a free sample of RIP Tyde: A Deep Sea Thriller

  Gabino Iglesias is a writer, journalist, and book reviewer living in Austin, TX. He’s the author of Gutmouth (Eraserhead Press), Zero Saints (Broken River Books) and a few other things no one will ever read. His work has appeared in The New York Times, Verbicide, The Rumpus, Entropy, Z Magazine, Red Fez, Word Riot, and other print and online venues. You can reach him on Twitter at @Gabino_Iglesias.

  RIP Tyde

  This is going to save our marriage. It will give us time to sort through the pieces of a broken life and fit some of them back together. It’s just like a puzzle. I used to be really good at those. The pieces will fit back together. All we need is the time to do it.

  Tyde Gregory tried to calm his nerves with that bittersweet mantra as he threw the last of his things into his yellow duffle bag and zipped it closed. The nametag hung from a loop on the bottom of the bag. Tyde flipped the tag and examined his own name. Over the years, he had come to accept the fact that his parents were California surf hippies and had the best of intentions when they named him, but he would be lying if there weren’t times that he really wished his nametag said ‘Bob’ or ‘Scott’ instead. Then again, his parents must have been onto to something when they named him Tyde; sure they were definitely on something when they did, but he couldn’t deny that they seemed to instinctually know he would love the water.

  Being in the water was one of the few times that Tyde ever felt truly at peace. The water brought him Wendy. Memories of her walking into his diving class all those years ago flashed through his mind. She was beautiful, tanned and giggling with her friends as they waited for the class to start. It had been one of those classes people took on vacation, half-drunk, bobbing around in the hotel pool and breathing through the regulator. No one ever really learned how to dive, but Wendy cornered Tyde after the class and insisted that he give her a private lesson. There was no way in hell Tyde was going to turn down a bikini-clad request for a private class. Wendy left after her week was up and Tyde followed. They had been inseparable since.

  Life had been easy, like they were destined to be together. Wendy took a job teaching kindergarten and Tyde started working in a local dive shop. Even though he wore surf shorts to work on most days, it felt a little too corporate for him. But he was willing to deal with timesheets and inventory if it meant he got to go home to Wendy every night.

  Weekends had been devoted to dive trips with friends. Everything fit together and worked. They had been happy. Their friends had been happy. The water brought them all together and made their happiness possible. Life made sense when they were diving or at least it used to.

  Tyde shook his head, trying to banish thoughts of the past from his head and laughed when the mirror on top of Wendy’s dresser reflected an image of the dirty blond rat’s nest that blossomed from the side of his head. He didn’t want to waste time getting lost in the past. He was looking towards the future. That’s why they were going on this trip, or maybe it was more accurate to say that was why he was going on the trip. Wendy refused at first. Later just protested. And finally reluctantly agreed to go.

  Wendy’s things were already packed. She was always more prepared than Tyde, though neither of them had been prepared for last year’s diving trip. No checklist or equipment double-check could have prepared them. More past that Tyde didn’t want to think about. He grabbed Wendy’s bag and walked towards the door. The rest of their gear was in the garage. Wendy was out there double-checking everything before the taxi came to bring them to the airport.

  Tyde tried to convince himself that last year’s trip was when his marriage began to fall apart, that the trauma of the trip drove a wedge between him and Wendy, but he knew that wasn’t true. Things were bad before the trip, probably for longer than Tyde even knew, and the trip only made them worse.

  It was true that Wendy agreed to go on this trip. That had to count for something. It had to mean there was some small splinter of hope and love left in her heart. Tyde hoped for all of those things, but knew that his wife’s motivation might have more to do with the fact that they were flying to Long Island in the Bahamas to dive a blue hole. They had swam just about anywhere there was water, but never had the opportunity to explore the amazing underwater cave systems known as blue holes. Aside from Belize, the one on Long Island was probably the best in the world. This breathtaking blue world plunged over six hundred feet below sea level, opening into a honeycomb of rooms that had only just begun to be explored.
It was unlike anything Tyde or Wendy had ever seen, completely alien and intoxicating.

  Still, Wendy agreed to go. They weren’t going to spend the entire time underwater. There would be time to talk, to reconnect. Time to save their marriage.

  This is going to save our marriage. It will give us time to sort through the pieces of a broken life and fit some of them back together. It’s just like a puzzle. I used to be really good at those. The pieces will fit back together. All we need is the time to do it.

  Tyde repeated his mantra as Wendy greeted him with a sad, broken smile from the waiting taxi. Tyde threw the rest of their gear into the trunk of the taxi and climbed inside. He reached over and gently squeezed Wendy’s hand. She looked out the window. Tyde squeezed once more, a simple, pleading gesture that spoke volumes about their relationship. Wendy’s fingers fluttered in Tyde’s and tightened ever so slightly.

  This would work. It had to work. Tyde could fix this. He could find a way to fit these pieces together, just like all of those puzzles from so long ago. Tyde loved puzzles when he was a child. He just never wanted his marriage to become one.

  -2-

  The needle on Milo’s air gauge ticked slightly over from yellow to red. There was plenty of air left in the tanks considering that the surface was only twenty to thirty feet overhead, but his tanks had been problematic ever since Jefferson dropped them on the dock. There had to be a small leak somewhere in the system, not that Milo and Jefferson had the money to fix it. He would need to head for the surface.

  Milo signaled the three college boys he was guiding today – time to head to the surface. One of the kids held up five fingers. What harm could five more minutes do? Milo gave him the thumbs up, the college boys were experienced divers, and began swimming for the surface. He turned to watch the three college boys swimming near the wreck they had explored today. One ducked inside the ship. Experienced, not smart.